


Chasing Shadows

by Jakkiisukaru



Category: Lost Boys (Movies)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Erotica, F/M, Humor, M/M, Multi, Murder, Near Death Experiences, Romance, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:47:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22189639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jakkiisukaru/pseuds/Jakkiisukaru
Summary: Alexia is an ordinary person living a normal boring life when everything is suddenly torn away from her. Yet there's a catch to it all since she believes it's one-hundred percent a dream. Just some head trauma-induced fantasy and nothing more. That there is no way she controls some magical ability to teleport into the Lost Boys universe, near-death experience or not. However, there's no harm or foul when it's all just make-believe, right? So why not play around with a bunch of vampires while you have the chance?(Lost Boys/OC/Lost Boys | Poly-dynamic | will include m/m pairings in later chapters)
Relationships: David (Lost Boys)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 45





	1. Chasing Fate

If you had asked me how I'd expect my day to go, I would have answered with something along the lines of boring. I have a routine and a dull one at that. I wake up, I study, and then I work. The only excitement in my life is going grocery shopping or reading a good book. So, when my day did an entire one-eighty on me, saying it was unexpected doesn't really amount up to how caught off guard I truly was…

|CHAPTER ONE: CHASING FATE|

The first thing I heard was my cat, Aki, calling out to me in her feminine meows while her little white paws bounced across my covers. I could feel them digging into the grooves where my limbs made crevices. The sound of faint purring reaching my ears even before a fuzzy face nuzzled my own. There was no doubt in my groggy mind that Aki wanted to be fed and wouldn't stop pestering me until otherwise.

With a tired groan, I cracked my eyes open to be greeted with a pair of green ones. My little orange fluff sitting on my chest as if it was her own personal throne.

"Alright—alright, I'm up," I grumble before shifting my weight into a seated position, stretching. Now pleased with me, Aki hurriedly jumped down to scurry away. Probably straight to the kitchen knowing her. "Though, I wish you'd let me sleep in." I continued even if my cat could no longer hear me or even cared.

I adopted Aki a little over a year ago from the street, well, technically she adopted me. You've probably heard this story before where an animal waltzes up to a person and they decide to take the stray home. Well, my cat walked right through my front door.

It was around late October when one day I opened my door, planning to go down to the gas station just a few blocks away when a frizzled looking kitten dashed into my house in a panic. It was as if she magically appeared on my doorstep, and when I turned around to see what the world ran between my feet, there sat the saddest looking thing. A sickly brown mess with tufts of fur missing and one eye sealed from infection.

I stopped my earlier pursuit for some coffee and turned my attention fully to the sad excuse of a kitten, and the rest is history. In all honesty, Aki is like my child.

After giving my body a good stretch, going through the basic methods of touching my toes and reaching for the sky, I officially made my way into the little kitchen. Most of my days are pretty laid back compared to the average life of a twenty-something-year-old. At least as far as I have been told.

I don't physically attend colleges since all my courses are online. I don't party much because clubs give me a headache. And my 'job' is me being a self-employed artist. To top it off my best friend is my cat. Though I do have some friends that I chat with through instant messengers and so forth—not counting clients. Basically, I treat my free days as extra lazy days where I generally prop my feet up and watch shows, read, or even play video games. How exciting, right?

I go through my routine of feeding Aki, making myself a bowl of cereal, and booting up my computer. Nothing fancy for a good solid hour. Just me checking my social media and responding to comments. Eventually, I know I should run some errands and push away from my desk.

Fifteen minutes must have passed before I'm standing by the front door, shoving earbuds into my ear and pocketing my phone. I traded out my comfy clothes for more athletic wear. Why not make a run to the store healthy with a jog? The market is only a mile away anyway.

"I'll be back in a bit," I called out to my cat while zipping up the jacket. Although winter was another month away that didn't mean the autumn air wasn't chilly. I already had my phone set to my alternate rock folder, the music assaulting my ears pleasantly.

That was my first mistake. The second mistake was not looking to see where Aki was before opening the door.

As soon as I did, Aki made a run for it. Triumphantly escaping the warm and loving confinements of my home—her home for roughly a year now, and I stood there like an idiot. Never had she ever made a mad dash like that. In all the twelve months I've babied her, Aki appeared content with her newfound home. Yet now, now the orange ball was flying down the apartment steps. Quickly I pulled my door shut and ran.

Have you ever had to run after an animal? That shit ain't easy.

I couldn't help but curse under my breath as I watched her scurry across the street with gusto. Clearly, she knew exactly where she had to be and in a hurry.

"Aki!" I hollered as my feet kicked off the last step of the stairwell, bounding after her. "What the hell, cat!?"

Again, I blame the distractions. I blame the music still blasting in my ears as I stared at the cat's fleeting form, my vision narrowed in like a missile. And I was so close to nabbing her before I barely heard it. My feet just hitting the asphalt of the little two-lane road separating the apartment complexes as someone pressed hard on their car horn. Hell, I hardly had time to register the sound, though on reflects my head turned to face the loud noise cutting through my music. In that split moment where everything seemed to slow down, I caught sight of silver, and then it immediately sped right back up.

I didn't have time to respond. I didn't have time to think. All I knew was that I was flying before tumbling over something unforgiven, then I felt weightless until I came crashing down. The hard impact jarring my body across the cold harsh ground, the asphalt eating away at my skin— and fuck it burned. It felt like my whole body had shot up in flames.

Faintly within my jumbled up thoughts, I could hear a woman calling out to me. Her words were bouncing back in forth like a noise traveling through a tunnel as I stared at the road in a daze. Along with the stranger's voice came the sound of car breaks coming to a squeaking halt around me.

And that was it.

My eyelids fell, sealing themselves without my permission, and darkness swallowed me. My vision, my mind, my everything. Then a jerking motion alerted me out of the black void and I jolted forward, my hands coming up to embrace myself on instinct. Within seconds my gaze focused on a tan dashboard in front of me and the confusion fully set in.

"Hey, relax. I was just avoiding a pothole." came a somewhat familiar voice to my left. Slowly I lowered my hands while turning to face them. I couldn't believe my eyes.

"Hey, you okay? Did you have like a nightmare or somethin'?" His voice quiet as he continued to shoot glances at me, his focus mainly resting on the dark road stretching out before us.

No, I'm not okay.

There was no mistaking that curly brown mop on the boys head or the slightly tan complexion from basking in the Arizona sun. Not even those bluish-grey eyes and that slightly crooked smile even if it currently creased downward with worry. I honestly could not believe who was sitting next to me, but there he was in all his glory behind the steering wheel. Nope, no mistaken it. That is Michael Emerson.

A little nagging feeling tugged in my gut and I glanced behind me, over the seat. Two sleeping forms came into view. Sam and Lucy Emerson. Nanook ears perked up as my gaze landed on the malamute. I blinked at the dog before a hand on my upper arm drew my attention back over to Michael.

"Alex, is everything alright?" Well, that was my name—more like my nickname, but it was the only thing making a lick of sense right now. Yup, this entire scene playing out before me should not be happening.

This has got to be a dream...

I swallowed, trying to calm my racing thoughts. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, I just had a nightmare." I finally answer him, falling back on his own assumptions. At that, the teen relaxed a little and began to pay more attention to the road.

"Wanna talk about it?" He offered, and I shook my head.

"Nah, it's okay. It was kind of, uh, morbid." I try to steer the conversation away, not entirely sure what I would tell him anyway. Maybe getting hit by a car...

"Yeah, so? When is something not morbid when it comes to you?" He gave me a glance with a lopsided smile. "Besides, what kind of brother would I be if I didn't listen, huh?"

My brother? Did he—he did. Oh, wow.

It's like I've been thrown into fanfiction, I thought as I blinked owlishly at him like a dimwit. Michael just bestowed upon me the magical title of being related to him, of being an Emerson. That's like a dime a dozen in the fanfic world. Yup, this totally has to be a dream. But if I had to make a guess, it did make sense. Why else would I be in this car right now? I mean, sure I could be like a hitchhiker or maybe even Mike's girlfriend or something. I mentally shivered that idea away. He may be good looking, as far as eighties actors go, but I've never found Michael to be attractive in that way.

So I guess sister it is. I can work with that, yeah. I've read enough sibling fanfics to get by. Hmm, I wonder if I am younger or older than Michael...

"So? Gonna' tell me?" Michael verbally nudged me back to the present moment. I didn't even realize that I was silent for that long.

"I, uh, I can't recall the dream in detail anymore," I mumble out as I turned to face forward completely. My eyes falling to the dim light off to my right where the sun is beginning to rise.

"Well, alright." he basically shrugged off the little interrogation. "I think you should get more sleep or somethin'. You're being a little 'space cadet.'" he playfully bantered. I could even hear the smile in his voice. I shook my head at him with my own, not wanting to come off anymore bizarre than what I've already managed to accomplish in the few minutes of being here.

From then on it was quiet between us.

I watched the sun climb over its wall of land in silent contemplation, letting it all settle in piece by piece. The sheer idea that I just got hit by a car only abruptly to appear inside one was ridiculous. Not only that, but a fictional eighties character is currently driving said car. And despite this universe being a fandom that I love and even wrote fanfiction for, it is the world in which the paranormal and supernatural exist.

Oh yeah, there is no way that this is not a dream...


	2. Chasing Freedom

### |CHAPTER TWO: CHASING FREEDOM

###### 

In the short time being here in the Lost Boys universe, which is less than twenty-four hours mind you, I've come to learn a few things. For one, I am the oldest, which magically ranks me as the one with the most responsibility, so says Lucy. And two, I am apparently the weird one out of the entire bunch. Not Sam and his addictive comic hobby or even grandpa who stuffs dead animals. No, I am.

Though personally speaking, I think gramps is the weird one.

Let me explain more. Michael was not kidding when he said, in a roundabout way, that I'm generally morbid. I can tell you right now that in the 'real world,' because this is just a dream—it can be nothing more than a dream, that I generally don't classify myself as morbid. At least I don't think or believe that I ever did.

Sure, I like horror films, books, and TV series—like The Lost Boys for example, but most of society can enjoy those things. None of that labels me as someone who enjoys disturbing imagery, and I don't have an unpleasant fascination with diseases and death. Not to mention that I generally dislike slasher flicks. The obsessive mutilation thing is just not my cup of tea. Especially with the terrible effects, CGI or not.

At least the Lost Boys didn't show that side of their film but twice.

Personally, I like the psychological side of horror. The kind that reveals the darker parts of the human psyche. So, about as 'dark' as I go on this subject are Steven King and Anne Rice books along with Edgar Allen Poe: a collection of short stories and poems. Oh, and my love for Tim Burton related stuff. Despite those things being what I consider normal things, I don't dress goth or decorate my living space in a Gothic-like theme.

Well, if you don't count for the lack of bright colors, that is. I can't help it if I prefer a simple modern black and white decor, nothing extreme.

Back on point, Alexia Murree Emerson is Goth. Alexia Murree Grant is not. How do I know this? Simple. When we officially moved in and began that tedious activity of unpacking our belongings, my supposed belongings, I quickly became aware that all of it is on the creepy end of the spectrum. Like mentioned before, I am a clean-cut—no need for clutter type person, but the sister of the Emerson's is quite the opposite.

After setting everything up and successfully rummaging through what feels like someone else's sentimental property, I now stand in a room that could rival the Adams Family house. Of course, not as high-end. Like dim it down to about fifty percent, but regardless it is still Gothic. The only thing missing at this point is a coffin instead of a bed and a pet bat. Oh, and the occasional spider-webs everywhere. Even my clothes that I just finished folding or hanging up are all dark, with most being black, period. Why my dream would conjure up this type of style for me, I have no clue.

Maybe for an opportunity to express myself differently, I guess? Or maybe my head was trying to tell me something? Some dreams do have meanings to them after all. Nonetheless, it's what it is, and I'm stuck with it for now.

"Alex!" Came Michael's loud voice from downstairs. "Are you almost done up there? We're going to the Boardwalk, so hurry up!"

"Yeah, hurry up already!" Chipped in Sam, an excited tone lingering in his voice.

"Mom's gonna drive off without us!" Michael added before a loud boast of laughter could be heard, the sound of shuffling mingling in. Them horsing around most likely.

"Yeah, yeah! Just give me a few minutes, alright?" I called back down to the clattering noise. "I'll be right there!"

I would be ready by now if I didn't feel conflicted about my outfit. The eighties really went through a style of crises I'll tell you that. At least compared to what I've become adapted to, but I'm trying to make my new wardrobe work.

I stood in front of a full-body mirror wearing dark pants equivalent to skinny jeans, a black tank top with 'Metallica' written in bold red letters across the chest with a dark long sleeve cardigan over that. To top it all off, a pair of mid-calf black faux leather combat boots sat snug around my feet. My dark burgundy hair, a shade of maroon that my normal brown hair did not have before, sat almost untamed around my face with choppy layers—the end of my hair resting just past my breasts with my bangs cut short of my eyes.

Basically, a stranger is staring back at me, with the exception being my eyes and complexion. The brown pigment in them laying just on the border of being orange, mainly around the pupil. While the outer circle of the iris gradually becomes muddy-clay brown as dark red specks float near the pupil. At this point, I would not have been surprised if my eyes were blue, just like Lucy's, Sam's, and Michael's, although I'm happy that they are not.

Grabbing the edge of my cardigan, I tugged it down with the weight of my hands, trying to get a feel for this person who is staring back at me. The decor of my room reflecting behind me not helping. Sighing, I ran a hand through my hair, not affecting it much since it's already a mess, and stepped away to trudge down the stairs.

No sense in fretting over something I can't alter without having to buy a whole new 'everything.'

It's not like I despise this kind of look, I mean, I've always wondered how I would pull it off if given a chance. My mother would have none of that rocker-goth crap, so I never had the opportunity. That only made me question Lucy even more, though. Why did she allow her daughter to create such an image for herself? Then again, I am twenty, and so I can only assume that Lucy is giving me the space to express myself. Not to mention it's the eighties. Crazy and bold themes were now on the rise.

I hopped off the last step coming face to face with sam.

"Finally! I thought you died up there or somethin'." Joked Sam with a grin, his body language radiating with pent up energy.

"Pish, you wish." I tossed back just as playfully before watching his grin fall to a look of mock shock.

"Whoa!" He sidestepped in front of me as I was about to walk past, forcing me to stop.

"What?" Surprise evident in my voice by his outburst. The thought I must have done something wrong instantly coming to the forefront.

"You're not wearing any makeup." He stated matter-of-factly. "That's a first." I just scrunched my face up at him, not amused.

"Ehh' Sammy, don't pester the demon." Laughed Michael while waltzing in from the kitchen before throwing an arm over our younger brother's shoulders. "Besides, I think it's a nice change of pace. Too much black around the eyes gets sore to look at, ya' know?" He continued to joke while heading out with Sam still nestled in close in a half brotherly hug.

I guess in a way, that was a compliment.

"Hurry up!" Shot out Michael over his shoulder. "Mom's already in the car."

"Yeah, yeah," I picked up my pace to catch the closing door, shutting it quietly behind me before jogging to catch up with them.

..

..

The Boardwalk of Santa Carla looked just how I remembered it in the movie: Completely crowded with people of all shapes and sizes. Exceptionally the young and dangerous looking. If I recall things right, Santa Cruz, the city that the movie takes place in, is a college town. So seeing the crowd being mainly young adults made absolute sense, but the atmosphere of it is still suffocating. Add that on top of the oceanfront amusement park with the weekly tourist, and you have a massive amount of people squirming about. All trying to get from point A to point B.

Though that wasn't why I kept looking around, no, I already knew where the real excitement spawned from. Once the sun fell beyond the horizon is when the place truly starts to thrive. Not just because of the public concerts and the rides being lit up. Not even because of the bonfire parties, but the vampires.

That's what I was looking forward to.

For a good portion of the late afternoon, I hung out with the family as we scouted out the place. Only breaking away from them to get a closer look at some of the sideshows, tipping to those I felt really put some spirit into their act. Daylight only lasted about thirty minutes tops before the sun kissed the border of the sky and dipped away to welcome the shadows of the night.

And with that prospect came the anxiety. I begin to fidget with the silver band on my thumb, the ring rotating loosely around the skin there as I thought about the events to come. Sure, tonight won't be the night that my younger brother—man, it felt odd to think of him like that, would be a dumbshit and chase after vampires, but still...

Shortly after it became dark, Lucy separated from us in the hunt for a job while Michael requested to check out the concert which Sam was all game for. I, on the other hand, knew I should continue searching for work. So after a few minutes of listening to the saxophone guy, I told Michael what I was doing and departed from them.

I weaved myself around bodies and made my way back to the main strip. My eyes were already scouring the shops for potential employment, though I honestly don't know why I should even bother. This is a dream, so getting a job felt pointless to me, but whatever. I'm just going with the motions.

During my walk to nowhere in specific, I strolled past a set of familiar bikes and froze. The four motorcycles sat vacant of their owners, just perched beside the railing overlooking the beach. I took a glance around before stepping up closer to them, walking between a pair while running my hands across the cool metal. Admiring the sleek frames as my fingers brush the ends of the leather seats. I know I'm walking on some thin ice right now, but what harm can come to me honestly? Being in a dream meant nothing could kill me, right? That thought right there is the only reason I'm risking my neck right now by checking out their cool-ass bikes.

After walking through the other two motorcycles, I gave them one final glance over before becoming another number in the horde of bodies. I felt like a little daredevil right now. Sure, to anyone else it would simply look like a girl checking out some bikes, but to me, I knew who owned them and how deadly those said owners could be.

Bright lights, along with some flickering motions, caught my attention and I turned to face the video store. Max's Video store, to be exact. With a quick glance inside, I couldn't see Lucy or the Lost Boys, but I could see Max.

Hmm...

I pondered for a moment as I circle to face the dwindling crowd, catching sight of a boy standing all by himself next to some flower decor.

I wonder what would happen if I take over the role? It's my dream—I'm the lead conductor, so no harm no foul, right?

I watched as the child called out for his mother through muffled cries before doing another wary glance around. My gaze caught the faintest glimpse of Lucy, her back currently toward us, and I made up my mind.

"Hey there, lil' guy. You lost?" I always felt it was stupid to ask a crying child that is all alone if they are lost. All the signs say 'LOST CHILD,' but you gotta play the part, right?

The little boy nodded his head, and I gently put my hand out for him to take. I'm not stupid, though, I know my appearance must be discouraging. It wouldn't be entirely surprising if he hightailed it far from here, but the kid took my hand only after a moment of hesitation. With his hand in mine, I quickly pulled him into the video store.

"Excuse me, Sir, this boy is lost. Maybe his mother is in here?" I half ask Max to catch his attention. The other half toward any women meddling around checking out tapes.

Max walked around the counter with a confused expression. No doubt caught off guard that a girl like me is doing such a kind deed.

"I'm not sure but—"

"—Terry!" I looked away from Max, who had stopped talking to turn to the Lady. The brunette dropped down and tugged the kid into her arms, breaking the boys hold on my hand. "I was so worried, Hunny. You can't run off like that." She mother-hen her son while wiping his face clean and doing a once over. The boy didn't even usher a 'sorry' or anything. He just looked happy to see his mom again.

The lady stood back up and gave me a grateful smile. "Thank you. I was looking all over for him."

"It's no biggy, Miss." I offered back before peering down at the boy, already knowing they won't be staying long. "Later, Terry." I offered a little wave with my fingers.

"Before you go," Max gave a sucker to Terry, which the child eagerly took, of course, before being towed away by his mother right out the door.

"Well, now that I've done my good deed for the week," I start while facing Max again, the big bad honcho-head-vampire in all his nerdy glory. "I'll be on my way."

"Wait," I turned around to face him again with a cocked eyebrow. "Here." He offered me a red sucker in which I just lightly shook my head at.

"No thanks, but thanks for the offer," I say politely with a small smile before making my exit.

I didn't get far before twisting right back around. Making brief eye contact with David would do that to anyone— Oh, boy.

"On second thought," I began again. "Do you, by chance, have a watermelon flavored one?" I try my hand at looking interested during my feeble attempt at small talk. It was hard not to look around myself as the Lost Boys paced the outskirts of the circular counter. The desire to glance at them eating at the back of my mind.

It took Max only a second or two before he handed me my flavor of choice, just as Thorn's low grumble drew my attention to the dog. Hellhound or not, he was still a beautiful beast. With the sucker now in my pocket, I crouched down to eye level with the white beauty. The once growling wolf-dog broke contact with the vampires to look at me, his jowls falling back over his bare teeth. He seemed unsure of himself if the way his gaze kept shifting back to Max meant anything.

"Thorn, be nice." Max decided to toss in just as I chose to reach my hand out, palm up, so he can sniff me.

Thorn leaned his snout closer with a little hesitation before his moist nose ghosted over my palm. Then he gradually placed his entire chin in my hand, and I knew right then and there that he and I could be best buds if ever given the opportunity. Gingerly I lifted my other hand to pet his head, stroking down between his ears to his shoulder blades before standing up.

"Anyway, thanks for the sucker and letting me pet your dog, but I gotta go."

"Well, thank you for helping that kid find his mother. Not many that, uh—" his voice trailed off.

"—Not many people that look like me take time out of their day to do that, I know." I finish for him. "Don't worry, I like blunt honesty. It doesn't hurt my feelings any." I say afterward when noting his awkward expression, a slight chuckle in my voice.

Hell, I'm sure my 'feelers' are all sorts of broken anyway. When a girl looks like me, it's easy to assume that I have 'issues.'

"Well, catch you on the flip-side," I gave Max a mock salute before doing an 'about turn' to go along with it, officially exiting the store.

Not going to lie, I felt pretty damn good about myself. I didn't freak out or anything which had to mean something. However, I only made it about ten paces before hearing the sound of shuffling boots behind me. Either a hoard of zombies raided an army surplus store, or that was our boys stalking me. I didn't look back to check, but I can bet my penny bank it's the latter.

"Yo! Wait up." Called out a voice that I pinged to be Paul's. "C'mon, slow your roll, man."

I took that as a reason to not play coy and turned to face the voice, and sure enough, all four guys fell right into view. The crowd seemed to part for them as they strutted their cool-man walk. Especially David, what with his wool trench coat doing that bellowing effect you usually only see in movies. Yet they all had that air of 'badass' pulsing around them.

Within a few strides for them, due to their long-ass legs—that even includes Marko, they caught up to me. The bodies around us moving past like water around a boulder.

"Yes? How may I help the tall, dark, and scary boys this fine evening?" I ask with a touch of sarcasm, though my lips couldn't fool anyone as they quirked up into a smirk.

Why I even caught their attention, I don't know, but I doubt my super quick eye-to-eye moment with David justified it. Then again, it may be because of how I look or that I spoke with their sire—who knows.

Apparently, what I do know is what I said was funny enough to make Marko snicker behind a fingerless gloved hand, my eyes falling to rest on him because of it. Just in time to even watch him nip on his thumb. Oh, this could be fun.

I slapped on a serious expression while placing a hand on my hip, the other half-heartedly gesturing toward the curly blond boy. "Did you just bite your thumb at me, Sir?" I ask with a fake British accent, trying to sound offended.

Marko looked taken back as his eyebrows rose along with hands, showing his palms in surrender, "What—no, not really, I mean—" he stopped as I began to laugh. The seriousness breaking away into a fit of giggles.

"I'm sorry," I wiped a fake tear from my eyes as I gathered myself, my normal voice back in place. "I just couldn't pass that up."

He continued to blink at me with a look of confusion, and I just shook my head.

"Ya' know, Romeo and Juliet? Shakespeare play?" It didn't seem to trigger anything as he tilted his head at me, looking more frustrated than anything. "Alright, well, biting a thumb at someone is like the equivalent of giving the 'bird' in that story." I ended up explaining to him, which made Marko's scrunched up face finally fall back into that familiar Cheshire-like one.

"Man, I haven't thought about theater shit in ages. You got me, girl." He jested.

I smiled back as I placed my hands in my pockets, trying to put up a front that I am at ease with the situation—of being approached by four vampires.

"Though, I'd rate you more of an Edgar Allen Poe person." he tacked on as a second thought.

"Well, you wouldn't be wrong." I shrugged my shoulders a little. "I do love me some short horror stories and depressing love poems like the next girl." then I winked at him, which appeared to make his eyes light up playfulness.

It sort of felt good to play around with them.

"So, what's your name, chica?" Inquired Paul again, drawing my attention back to the guy that started all this, his own smile greeting me.

"Alex." I simply said, "And you are…?"

"Paul, babe!" He answered excitedly, causing me to lift my eyebrows from the sudden shift.

Turning to face David, I gave the vampire a questionable look that quickly stated: 'is he always like this' without verbally asking. When our eyes locked on to each other his lips twitched into a smirk, but that piercing stare did nothing to hide the coldness. I knew that David would be hard to handle, but damn, someone turn down the frost beams.

As if noticing that my cool collective mask is cracking, his smirk grew. "David." He introduced himself with a deep voice, a hint of humor lingering, but it did nothing for that stare.

I gave him a nod, ready to move on to the next guy, so I turned my gaze back to Marko who quickly jumped into action.

"I'm Marko, the hottest man on this boardwalk." He stated with an air of pride which earned him a half-ass tackle from Paul, who appeared eager to argue that statement.

As soon as they started their shenanigans, my gaze fell on Dwayne, and I held my stare despite the cool stoic gaze beaming right back at me. It's nowhere near as chilly as David's, but it still drove the point home.

Without blinking, the Native American introduced himself, "Dwayne." His voice equally deep and blunt, but I knew that he hardly ever talks. More of a 'talk when it's necessary' kinda guy, but I can understand. I'm generally the same in a different situation. However, this is my dream. Reminding myself that made me feel brave or dare I say it—even ballsy.

With another nod, I turn to face the alpha wolf once again. Ironic to say, I know.

"So, um, you guys haven't really answered my question."

"What? We can't just talk to a cute girl?" Paul asked after shoving Marko aside playfully.

"Uh-huh," I said with a dull tone, not believing that spill. My eyes drifted back to David while I crossed my arms. "Don't dance around the edge, boys. I can tell there is an interior motive here."

I smirked when David's eyebrows seem to rise with a smile on the verge of making its appearance, his cocky behavior growing. "I like it blunt and simple." I finished with, repeating myself from Max's store, which I doubt they missed me explaining to their head-vampire.

"Do you now?" David took a step closer then, practically becoming boot to boot with me, and if he would just bend down a little, this would be a kiss scene waiting to happen.

"Yup." I popped the 'P.' "Give it to me straight, Doc'," I said with a challenge, never breaking our staring contest. "Though I can't give any promises of fulfilling said desires," I added as a second thought to save my own ass.

My breath caught in my throat as he leaned in even closer, our noses almost touching, as those icy blues tore right into me— as if he could see into my soul.

"And what if I told you we have plans to kill you, hmm?" Then as casually as he leaned forward, he leaned back. That crooked smirk right in place as his words settling into my ears, and I had to remind myself to push air into my lungs.

"Well, damn." I blinked a few times while taking a step back, feeling the urge to high-tail it. My fight or flight instincts were kicking into high alert, but I knew better than to make a scene. No, I had to pretend I knew nothing of their supernatural status.

Maybe that's easier said than done.

"I, well, I'd say that would be a tad morbid of you. Though," I gave a pause to collect myself, my finger unconsciously fidgeting with my ring. "I honestly can't tell if you're joking or not, but logically speaking, making a scene right here in the middle of the boardwalk wouldn't be the best route to take."

I glanced around the crowd. Although there were fewer people here since we are further away from the rides, there had to be easily fifty or so surrounding us. No way would David make a scene.

Feeling cocky, I continued. "I would wait until the girl is secluded to swoop in and make the kill, personally. But," My eyes fall back on his. "I do kinda peg you for a person that likes to play with their victims."

Throughout my spill, I spoke pretty evenly, but my heart was pounding hard. I could feel it in my chest, thumping away like I ran a mile so there was no doubt in my mind that they could hear it. Besides that, I knew these boys could kill me if they really wanted to, and those thoughts alone would make a girl's heart jump out of their throats.

"Interesting." David's smirk never seemed to falter, just like that stare of his. Always calculating, analyzing, reading the next move.

The cold touch of a gloved hand made me flinch a fraction. The texture cupping my cheek as a leather thumb rubbed below my left eye. This felt oddly intrusive.

"Is that your real eye color, Alex?" It took me a few seconds to respond since his question caught me off guard. Not to mention hearing David say my name for the first time. I mean, I half expected him to make some smartass remarks about me not fooling anyone, but instead, he asked about my eyes.

Odd...

I blinked, my gaze falling to the multiple collars of his jackets before gazing right back up, puzzled. "Yeah? Same color I was born with, why?"

"Really? I pegged them for contacts, damn." Whined Paul, who seemed to cut the tension, David's hand falling to rest in the pocket of his coat again. With the freedom of not being under that intense gaze, I turned to face Paul just in time to see Marko victory punch him in the bicep.

"You owe me twenty bucks, sucker!"

"Whoa, wait, you guys made a bet on my eyes?" Was that really why they stopped to talk to me? Seriously? They nodded with laughter bubbling on their lips. "C'mon, I know they are a tad odd but—still, their just brown eyes with a slight pigment defect," I grumble while crossing my arms.

I mean, come on, when they vamp-out their eyes go all feral cat-like for Pete Sakes.

"Hey, I'm not dogging on it, girly. I think they are rad." Complimented Paul as he stepped closer to peer into my eyes. "You even got, like, flecks of red in there. Pretty nifty."

"Uh, thanks?" I say while taking a step backward. Most people either found them unsettling, so I couldn't help the slight blush beginning to tinged my cheeks. Knowing I'm blushing like some school girl made me internally scowl, afraid that my cool collected facade is falling to shambles.

"So like," I start again, trying to distract my mind while making a point to look behind me, "I know you have plans to murder me and all, but can we do a rain check? I need to meet up with my brothers and head home." My question earning me a few laughs by the blond duo.

"Yeah, sure." David agreed with a deep chuckle of his own before fishing out a cigarette then his zippo lighter. "How about same time tomorrow?" he asked before placing the cig into his mouth and lighting it up.

Man, it feels like we are talking about meeting up for coffee...

"Uh, sure." I gave a noncommittal shrug. "How about the rondeau point being—" I looked around, my eyes trailing over multiple places before settling on the stairs across the way. "—over there by the stairs that lead to the beach?"

He hummed before a cloud of smoke escaped his mouth, "Sounds good."

"Later then, guys," I say with a wave while turning my back to them. Way too aware of how dangerous that can be.

"Catch ya' later, girly!"—"Bye, babe!" called out Marko and Paul about at the same time, which threw them into another fit of laughter. Even I chuckled softly under my breath. Although feeling their gaze lingering on my back made things feel uneasy until I interwove myself in the horde of people.

..

..

"Have fun tonight, sweetie?" Asked Lucy as we rode home, her eyes cutting to look at me in short bursts.

"Yeah, I think I might have made some friends even," I answered before tilting my head to stare out the window. It was pointless, though, since all I could make out was darkness.

To be fair, I don't know what I just accomplished doing. I had fun teasing and playing along with their antics, but ultimately they are still vampires. David even said they had, and may yet have, plans to kill me. So did I make friends or just poke a hungry pack of wolves? I don't know.

"Me too!" chipped in Sam as he stuck his head in between the driver and passenger seat. "And I think Mike might have made a 'girl-friend'," he added in a playful tone while barely holding back a snicker.

"Shut up, Sammy." Grumbled Michael from behind me. An obvious tone of defeat in his voice, which assuming if he did meet Star, just like in the movie, then he must have watched her hop onto Davids bike and ride off. That would make me assume she's not single and was only playing at his heartstrings too, but don't worry Mike, she's totally head over heels for you.

When we arrived home we all went our separate ways. We were all too tired from the drive to Santa Carla and mingling at the boardwalk to do much else. Hell, I didn't even bother flicking my light on as I walked into my room. I merely stepped out of my boots, kicking them to who knows where, before stripping my pants off. By that time, my eyes had adjusted enough to see the outlines of objects, so I carefully made it to my bed, plopping down on it while partially undressed and not even caring.

I face-planted into my pillow and just laid there, waiting for dreamland to come and sweep me away. Not even aware that I should already be dreaming, but before I could, I felt the tug on my subconscious, and I was out like a light.

I could hear a beeping noise. The annoying sound drew me right out of my sleep, causing my eyebrows to knit with frustration. I went to shut up what I can only assume to be the alarm clock to only feel a shock wave. The pain striking right up my arm like lighting. Instantly my eyes opened. My reaction so quick you would have thought something bit the shit out of me.

And I immediately noticed a difference. I went from lying on my stomach to lying on my back with no coherent memory of when that happened. That was the first thing that I noticed as I now stared up at a ceiling. Multiple dark light fixtures were staring back at me, only noticeable by the dim morning light seeping through the window a few feet away.

The second thing I observed was that I could not move, and as my breathing began to pick up, the entire room sank in. It was not the bedroom that I had set up just hours ago, no— I'm in a hospital!

The reason I could not move my hand was due to a cast securely wrapped around my right arm. The beeping I heard was not an alarm clock, but my heart rate from the monitor.

I did get hit by a car, and now I'm in the hospital, but the events—what I just dreamed about, it all felt so real... the sights, the smells, all of it, was so vivid.


	3. CHASING DREAMS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to those who left comments, kudos, and even bookmarked this story! I really appreciate the support and hope you like this chapter.

### |CHAPTER THREE: CHASING DREAMS|

###### 

"How could you be so reckless, Alexia?" My mother said while pacing at the end of my hospital bed, her arms dancing in motion to help express just how irate she is with me. " I didn't raise you to not look both ways before crossing the road. I mean, you could have died." She said it as if I did die.

"But—" A hiccup from my mother stopped me and I swallowed.

"—I could have lost my only baby." That last part left her lips quietly as she finally came to a halt, wiping at her eyes to fight back full-blown tears. It cut my sad excuse of words right out of me.

Elizabeth Lee Grant, my mother who I've mostly taken after as looks and temper go, shortly arrived as soon as the nurse allowed her in. For the most part, it was like a reunion of sorts. Tears, affection, the works since we haven't seen each other for two whole years, but then it flipped to a mother's concerns and disappointment. I had scared my mother, but that was to be expected, I mean, I did just get hit by a car...

"Mom, I'm alright, okay?" I finally got out as she fell silent, my voice soft as I tried to comfort her.

However, I know I'm not in the best condition. For example, my right arm is broken with multiple fractions making it incapacitated by a long-arm cast. It will be a long time, give or take six weeks or more before I can ideally draw with my dominant hand. That thought alone is upsetting to me.

Drawing is my passion, my job, my life. Now I can hardly move my fingers, let alone hold a pencil, but the fear of not being able to draw at all makes me want to cave into myself.

On top of my broken arm, I have a neck brace. This is apparently a requirement to help prevent any further possible damage to the spinal cord after being tossed around in the air like a rag doll. Then above my left eyebrow is a row of stitches from a nasty gash I gained somewhere between getting hit by the car and landing on the ground. Another amount of stitches are located on my left thigh, nine to be exact starting at my knee. Not to mention the multiple abrasions from eating asphalt. Even without a mirror, I know I must be a sore sight to see with just the blossoming bruises and road rash alone. The cast and stitches were just icing on top at this point.

"I shouldn't have allowed you to live on your own. Just what was I thinking? It was too soon and way too dangerous." Spoke up my mom again. It drew my gaze away from staring at my cast to her, the words taking a second to sink in.

"No." Came out my mumbled disappointment, "You..." My voice gaining a little strength, "You—you can't be ser—"

"Like, hell I can't be serious, Alexia." She cut me off while stepping up to my bedside, towering over me. Her voice firm as if scolding an eight-year-old instead of an adult. "Just look at you! You're hurt. I mean, baby..." she began to soften up again, "Look at your arm. How can you draw now? How will you afford that dingy little apartment?" My jaw flexed at the last bit.

I know I am 'broken,' but she didn't have to rub it in.

With knitted brows, I turn my gaze downward to the small white mounds, my feet, hidden beneath the off-white blanket. I could feel the tears threatening to make an appearance. Not once have I cried during this whole ordeal, not even from the pain.

"I know I can't draw right now."

"Then, be mature about this." I watched her body lean closer with my peripheral vision before I felt her soft hands gently cupping my cheeks. She couldn't turn me to face her entirely since I'm in a neck brace, but she still captured my attention.

Reluctantly, I went back to staring at her as unwanted tears began to slide down my cheeks. I've never liked crying, especially in front of others, but my emotions had their own plans.

"Oh, baby, it'll be okay." She began to mother-hen me, wiping the tears away with her thumbs before kissing my forehead. "I'll take care of you."

"I know..." My voice felt foreign to me as I said that, the tone on the break of cracking. I knew she would take care of me, and I also knew I needed to be taken care of, but I didn't want to feel like some child who can't tie her shoes without assistance.

Even if I literally can't tie my own shoes right now.

"Once they release you, we'll stop by the apartment, okay? We'll grab a few things, and then you're coming home with me for a while." She didn't offer it up as a suggestion, and at this point, I knew her mind was set regardless. Even though I'm twenty, I know that I am still her child. It made this entire predicament hard to argue, and to be honest, I didn't have a lot of power to muster up to argue right now. I felt broken.. swollen and sore.

"Okay, mom." I quietly agreed without meeting her gaze.

..

..

The person that hit me didn't stick around after the incident. No one knew their name or really any information other than it being a silver Ford Focus, which makes sense of the color I had glimpsed right before the collision. So, in the end, I was useless to the Officers that came in later that day.

"You sure, Miss Grant?" Said the thirty-something looking ivory-toned gentleman by my bedside with a notepad open and pen still poised to take notes. Although it no longer moved at this juncture of our conversation.

We weren't getting anywhere fast, and I could tell this frustrated him.

For the past thirty minutes, we have sat here going over everything—anything, but it didn't take a rocket scientist to realize that this conversation won't exceed past the essential news. I survived a hit and run, and the 'suspect' is unidentified and may never be located. The chances were slim, and all I could think about is just how pissed my mother must be.

"Yes." I confirmed, "I barely noticed what color the car was, and as I said, I blacked out shortly after hitting the ground." I watched him nod and the pen scribble some more. "So yeah, I didn't catch the license plate."

No one did. I was their last chance at possibly gaining that sort of information.

The officer closed his notepad and stood up, "Alright. Well, thank you for your time." He gave me a professional smile. "We will see what we can do, Miss Grant." And with that, he made his way to the door where his partner was standing.

They stepped out and I could faintly hear their voices as they began to walk away. My case will be a lost cause if no one brought in a beaten-up Ford Focus for repairs, and knowing my luck, it'll never happen.

It was a few hours before my mother walked through the door again. The only distraction I had until then was the TV, but the show dancing on the screen didn't do much for me. It was an old nineties sitcom, Friends. I used to watch it with my mother while growing up, but now I wasn't feeling it.

As Ross and Rachel did their normal argument-thing that seems to occur every other episode, I just laid there thinking about my dream. The TV was basically becoming white noise as I thought back to the vivid imagery of the Santa Carla Boardwalk. Of Marko's playful grin, Paul's laughter, Dwayne's presence, and Davids chilling words. Even Lucy, Sam, grandpa, and Michael came to mind.

I had siblings in that dream. We playfully bantered with each other, sure, but we also laughed and shared that sibling bond that a family grows to have — something I've never really experienced in life because it has always been just my mom and me. Despite knowing I didn't really 'grow up' with them, they still had felt like a family..

"Sweetie, how you feeling?" My mom asked me after settling down in the chair, placing her purse on the floor next to her.

"I could be better, but I'm fine," came my gentle response, not wanting to cause another scene with her like earlier.

"That's good." She said mostly to herself. "I spoke with your doctor before coming in."

I maneuvered to where I could look at her a little better, intrigued. "Oh?"

Dr. Smith came in after my mother left that morning with his off-blue shirt, white coat, and black slacks. Basically, Dr. Smith is your everyday-run-of the-mil looking male doctor with a charming smile and short combed over brown hair.

He did what I assume is the general conduct a doctor would do and checked me over again now that I was conscious to respond. That's when I learned the full extent of my injuries. While doing his check-up, he must have asked me a thousand times if I was okay, comfy, and if anywhere else hurt. If there was one thing to say about him, it was his kindness. Since then, all I've really seen is a young female nurse whose been annually checking up on me as she paced the halls.

"So, any updates?"

"They want to keep you here for another twenty-four hours. Something to do with making sure your body can handle being jostled around."

"Oh… okay. Makes sense." At least that news meant I would be away from this 'all-white-everything' soon.

"Hey, it'll be alright. Give or take a month or two then that cast will be off," My mother tried to reassure me. Her voice light as she tossed me a smile, and I returned with some effort.

"And soon, you'll be able to start up that—that hobby you love so much." Then my smile faltered.

"It's not a hobby, mom." I didn't say it harshly, but the frown was noticeable regardless. "It's a career. A profession." I felt like I was repeating something I've told her a thousand times.

"I know, I know." She spoke like she was dismissing the conversation, not interested in continuing it because it generally led to an argument.

For years my mother has never really seen my passion for drawing or really seen art as a potential in general. To her, it was a mere hobby, something I should grow out of or do during my free time if anything.

"So, I'll be staying with you for a couple of months I take it?" I ask her while my left hand fiddled with the hospital blanket, my eyes watching the wrinkles form and fall away.

She fell silent as if contemplating her words wisely, then her hand fell over my fidgeting one, stopping it. "Hun, why don't you want to live with me?"

I knew that question was simple enough, but the answer itself is a complicated one. It may even border on the line of being selfish.

Now, I love my mother, don't get me wrong. She is a nice lady and raised me the best she could while being single and young, but we bumped heads a lot before I flew the nest. It may have been because I was a teenager at the time, but it seemed like every corner we turned, we were arguing about something. It was always trivial too. Just us trying to get the other to agree or at least see eye to eye on a subject that seemed important to one or the other.

Eventually, when I turned eighteen, I told her I was getting my own place, and within months I packed my car and drove away. As I said, she's a good mother just super constricting, and now when we finally see each other in person again, it's at a hospital — not the best place to meet up after barely speaking to one another in two years.

"Mom," I took a breath, readying myself. "I love you. You know that." I lifted my gaze to hers to really push my point across. "But, I'm a grown woman now. I need my privacy, my space, and a place to call my own."

"But Alexia, you know I can give you space and privacy. You used to live in your room all the time anyways. What's the difference?"

"A lot, mom. It's not the same." I try to reason with her, my eyebrows furrowing some. "What if I bring a man home to… well, you know."

"That's fine—"

"—No, it's not fine. I can't bring home guys to have sex and know that down the hall my mother can hear me. That's just weird."

My mother's face wrinkled up as the grip on my hand tighten a little as if physically afraid to let me go, "But you're so young..."

I huffed while sliding my hand out of her grip, "Not young enough to not have sex apparently. You seem fine with that subject."

"Well, of course." She leaned back while crossing her arms. The sweetness in her voice shifting to a familiar snide tone, "I'm not blind. I know most girls start having sex before their eighteen." If I could cross my arms too, I would. I wouldn't care if it was perceived as childish.

"I lost my virginity when I was sixteen." she continued as if proud to tell me that tidbit I could do without.

"Oh, so that's fine, but I can't live on my own?"

She sighed before her posture seemed to deflate. "Look, I'm not going to argue about this with you right now." She lifted herself out of the chair, taking a step away. "You will be staying with me until I see fit."

Frowning, I turned my gaze to the TV that's currently shut off, staring at the distorted reflection of the room, seeing myself. "I'm not some child anymore, mom."

"Maybe not, but you are my 'child,'" she stated matter-of-factly, and I just sighed while closing my eyes, not wanting to look at anything. Especially not what I've become.

A broken mess.

"I'm getting tired," I mumbled. "Maybe it's time you left."

I heard some shuffling and opened my eyes in time to see her about to speak and cut her off, "Please... let's just talk about this later, okay?" I watched her stand there for a moment as if contemplating saying more before finally giving a nod.

"Okay." Her voice was soft again. She then leaned down and kissed my forehead like earlier. "I'll come to check on you tomorrow, hun."

And with that, she grabbed her purse and left. A nurse came in a few minutes later to retrieve the half-eaten dinner from earlier, said a polite 'goodnight, then walked out while turning off the lights for me.

I was finally left to my own devices, but all I could think about was how much something could change in a blink of an eye. Even though I was dumb enough to run out into the street after Aki, who also at fault here, I can't help but wonder if she is okay. If she has eaten anything or found shelter to hide away in. Most importantly, why she even darted out of the apartment. It's unlike her.

Time slowly passed as I stared up at that dark tile ceiling, my bed now position back, so I'm lying down completely. It must have been another thirty minutes to an hour before I felt my eyelids become heavy. I fought back the urge to roll over onto my stomach, like how I generally sleep, before finally drifting off.

The split second of nothing was like bliss to me as I floated there in the realm of unconsciousness. That is until I felt the bed teeter before something heavy crashed into me, causing air to leave my lungs.

"Nanook! Ya' gonna smother her if you keep that up." came the familiar voice of Sam as the heavyweight rolled off me to be replaced with the bed bouncing. The sound of laughter succeeding in drawing me further out of that slither of peacefulness.

I cracked my eyes open to see Sam hovering near me. "Sammy..." I whined while pulling a pillow over my head to only have another pillow hit at it repeatedly.

"Get up, sleepyhead! It's almost noon." It sounded like he howled the last part. My god, where does he get all this energy?

I groaned while lifting the pillow slowly, to ward off getting pummeled directly in the face, until I could sit up. "Alright, alright, I'm up. Now get off me!" I couldn't help but giggle as I threw the pillow in his direction, successfully smacking him in the face.

Nanook barked and jumped up on the bed once more to join in on the rough-housing. A few minutes must have passed during our little pillow fight before we settled down again, my bed completely disheveled. Sam chuckled after commenting on my bed head and how the choppy layers lifted in almost like a lion's mane. It could easily have rivaled Paul's hairstyle at this point.

"You look ridiculous, Alex."

"Oh, shush you and get out! I gotta' get ready."

"Yeah, yeah." He chuckled some more while getting up to make his way out, Nanook beating him and running out the door first.

He paused in the archway as if something just dawned on him. "Hey, will you take me to the Boardwalk later?"

"Sure, bud. I'm planning on going there tonight anyway."

"Awesome!" He cheered before dashing out of the room, the door closing with a quiet thud.

I sat there on the bed for a moment before plopping back, staring at the ceiling that's currently being lit by a center light fixture instead of multiple tile lights. I'm not sure what's going on. I've never had this much control over my dreams before, but somehow I'm back. I don't know how, but I don't want to question it either.

Lifting my right hand up, I stared at my outstretched arm, taking in my fingers all the way down to my elbow — no swelling or discoloration of flesh. Just smooth pale skin. I flexed my fingers then rotated my arm and wrist.

No cast meant no broken bones.

With a blossoming smile, I sat up and rolled out of bed with a pep in my step. I went straight to my writing desk to pull out a notebook before grabbing a pencil. Plopping down in the wooden chair, I flipped to a blank page and placed the tip on the sheet. My wrist flicking as I began to stroke light lines across the surface with controlled movements. .

Most importantly, I can draw here.


	4. CHASING DANGER Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I should warn you and apologize for it now, but this chapter is a little wordy in some places. I kind of jammed a lot of thoughts into it which could possibly make it come off as too much in certain sections. Especially when getting closer to the end. I just felt like I should build up more on Alex's story, her thoughts and feelings toward the Lost Boys, and whatnot. I don't believe the following chapters will have so much context jammed into it, so no worries if you decide to stick along for the ride.

### |CHAPTER FOUR: CHASING DANGER - PART ONE|

###### 

I'm going to be blunt; Edgar and Alan, the Frog brothers, are a handful. Mentally and emotionally speaking, not necessarily physical since they don't do much but stare, stock, and organize the comics. Not to mention they go on and on about the supernatural activity happening in Santa Carla. If they trust you to share that knowledge, anyways.

How Sam even found it in himself to befriend some off-putting characters, I'll never know. Anyone that so happens to be in the presence of Edgar can quickly get the picture of not being wanted. And Alan, though often quiet, effortlessly portrays the same feeling. I want to think my younger brother is playing a sly game. That because they run a comic book store that Sam is trying to be on their good graces to gain deals off. Though, it may be actual friendship blooming or more. Who knows?

Currently, Edgar is discussing the likely chance of me being a witch in the aisle over, making my eyes want to roll into my skull. Yeah, anyone could find Edgar off-putting.

"You know I can hear you, right?" Just because they are a distance away doesn't mean that I become deaf to whispering. For one, his whispering is not that quiet.

After shortly arriving into town, thanks to Lucy, who decided to tag along, we parked and made our way to the active mid-day Boardwalk. Sam quickly withdrew from us with hardly a goodbye. Most likely in a hurry to go back to the comic shop. While I walked alongside Lucy for a while until we passed a music store, the visual of the place drawing me in.

Lucy came in along with me for a short period, filling out some employment paperwork before proceeding to tell me what time to meet up at the car. Of course, with an additional mission to inform Sam as well. Then she left to continue her job search while I remained at the 'Music-Box' for some time before eventually heading off to find Sam.

So now, here I am, receiving my first hands-on moment with the Frog brothers.

Upon walking inside the partly empty but yet still chaotic looking store, due to the state it's in, Edgar pulled Sam into a different aisle just when my brother made a move to welcome me. Like any reasonable person would. This led to their whisper fest of Sam telling them who I am in relation to him and the rest is, well, obvious I suppose.

After my call-out, Sam spun around the corner with a nervous smile, Edgar right on his tail though he appeared a tad reluctant. "Hey, sis. Uh, this is Edgar." He stepped aside so I could see the novice Vampire Hunter in all his glory. From the messy hair being held back by a red bandanna like headband down to his military get up.

"And this, "he turned away to gesture to the other brother currently relaxing on the other side of the counter. "Is Alan. The Frog brothers."

Out of my opinion, Alan always appeared the leveled headed brother out of the two, just more 'put together' than Edgar. Even from his dark hair not being held by any bandanna along with the average clothing a young teenager might wear. Not military B.D.U's—at least if you are not in the military-like family, and by the looks of their stoned-hippie parents, I'd say they are not. But hey, maybe they want to join a branch someday. That is if they can put aside their Vampire Hunter dreams.

Sam jumped to my side, his hand fanning over me like how you would show off an item on display than a human being. "And this is my sister, Alex."

I stood there, not really making a show out of my introduction as Sam did. Edgar's assumption of my supernatural abilities no doubts spawning from my somewhat witchy appearance. To put it simply, I am still dressed in practically all black with some baggy articles. My untamed hair pulled over to one shoulder with a red scarf loose around my neck. So it's not entirely surprising that the Frog brothers would point fingers at me and jump to conclusions. Despite the fact that most of the Boardwalk are swarmed with punky-goth looking people. I mean, they think werewolves are running the courthouse for Pete's sake. Or was it witches? I can't remember...

As I expected, Edgar just grunted in response while Alan made his way over silently. So now we are all standing in an aisle of comics. How interesting. Now I'm not saying I dislike comics. I've just personally never collected them. Though, I do understand the value behind it. I just don't personally take part in it, so the enthusiasm of it is lost on me. However, I'm not entirely ignorant of the subject. Thanks to having the internet and the media, and perhaps having a love for art, I do know a thing or two about DC and Marvel-related stuff. Who wouldn't know even a little when the superhero movies are on the rise right now?

Then again, I have to remind myself of what era I'm currently in. The movie Blade has yet to hit theaters, and that film is considered the first hit wonder in cinemas that started the whole superhero movie franchise. Of course, if you don't already consider the 90s' Batman-related movies and their success.

Knowing I couldn't stand there forever like a ventriloquist doll and have Sam speak for me, I gave a short nod. "Nice to meet you two," I mainly say out of politeness though my voice held a little bite to it. No surprise that I received nods by both brothers with a grunt. They either clearly didn't like me or trust me. Hell, maybe both.

How peachy.

"So," Sam started up again due to the Frog brother's awkward silence. "What brings you to the shop? Looking for me?"

"Mm-hm, mom wanted me to tell you to meet us at the car around nine," I informed him. "No later than that, alright?"

"Yeah, can do!" Sam reassured me with a double thumbs-up, always being the energetic one.

With that accomplished, I swivel on my heels to face the exit. "I am going to hit up some stores and mosey around. See ya later, Sammy." I half-waved in his direction.

"Later!" I heard him call out to me, but before I officially stepped out of the store, I caught the faintest glimpse of Edgar starting up with Sam again.

"Are you sure she's not a witch?"

"Yeah, I am. I think I'd notice something was up with my own sister."

Those brothers, I shake my head while making my way through the growing crowd, secretly thanking my brain for making me a sister of the Emerson's and not the Frogs. Although Edgar's persistence to title me as something supernatural made me think.

I've always been the weirdo, but this going to sleep and waking up in a different place would really make anyone question it. And although I feel it can't be anything more than a dream because, well, the Lost Boys world is merely a fantasy thought up by Janice Fischer and James Jeremias, but the 'what if's' are there...

I like the movie, clearly, even if it is a tad corny with its eighties-style trying to make it a comedy while still being a horror flick. It doesn't change the fact that I enjoy what it managed to do for the vampire lore. It came out before either of Anne Rice movies, though her books were published before the Lost Boys. It even came out before the Buffy the Vampire Slayer movie and series. Which if you asked me, they clearly took some inspiration from the Lost Boys. Facing the facts here, our adored film is a cult classic that helped shape how we perceive vampires for quite a while.

Even today, in the real world, I prefer these brutal 'bloodsuckers' compared to the shiny adaptation of a sorrowful romance. Yes, you can assume quite easily what I'm referring to, but no, I won't go into specifics about it. I'm just applying that I prefer the Lost Boys over those types of vampires any day.

Their abnormal cut bone structure, blazing blood-orange eyes, talons practically for nails, and the 'batty' side effects to hanging by their toes with the additional ability to fly. It's a bit on the beasty-side, I guess, but who would deny their bad boy charm? It may not be every girl's sexy fantasy when they imagine their undead prince. Hell, I know some prefer no modifications to their devilishly handsome features other than protruding fangs and shifting eye color. And simply put, I like both. I can get behind either party as long as they don't sparkle and whine about their life. As long as they understand what they are and accept who they have become. Adapt to it however you wish. Be it blood bags from the hospital or hunting down the unlawful humans, but don't deny it.

Yet, none of that really helps my own predicament. It's a great bonus, sort of, to be in a world that has creatures perceived as fantasies be real. To see them in person and know that if vampires exist then what else could be lurking around. But, it doesn't tell me how I have managed to do what I am doing. If this is not a dream, which would be crazy, then this is me tapping into their world through the eyes of a character that doesn't even exist. In a sense, that would make me supernatural, but what could I be? I have no clue.

Oh man, if I keep this up my brain might implode.

I paced around the Boardwalk For the most part. Just going through one store to another and never stopping for long. I mean, I have very little money to really spend on things since I only have a couple of bucks to my name. Thanks to Lucy again, but the money is mainly meant for snacks.

Until the sun went down, that is. That's when I began to walk to the steps leading to the beach. You know, since I'm not one to tease vampires who can hunt me down and kill me regardless if I show up or not. So, in the end, I rather stick to my word. Not that this predicament I am in is really peachy, but hey, a dream is a dream. Mine may be some weird head trauma-inducing-thing, but it is still my dream.

I think...

Once reaching my destination, I descended a few stone steps to sit on the third row from the bottom, which caused my boots to dig into the sand partly. Ahead of me by a few yards or so sat some barrels, already lit up for the evening. Even the beach outstretched along my sight had pedestrians mingling about. As well as a few rows to my right, since the stairs stretch out that far. Overall, the place felt active but not chaotic compared to the main boardwalk.

My gaze kept drifting over to the huddle of people, their laughter reaching my ears as they relaxed there on the steps. For the lack of a better word, they seemed to be in their own little world. I've never been the one to hit it off with others that well. Since I was a kid, I've always been the 'loner child' with a small handful of friends throughout school. And now that I am older, I can pretty much say I am physically friendless. When not considering Aki and some IM pals.

But hey, it's not like it really bothers me. I've pretty much accepted the fact I'm an introvert in nature at this point. However, that does not necessarily mean I am shy. Just that the fewer social activities I'm a part of, the more at ease I can be.

So when that group having fun just a few steps away decided that my brief glance at them was an invitation to talk to me, you can probably guess how that went.

"Yo!" Called out the closest punk-looking guy. The type of punk that wears blue jeans with torn out knees stuffed inside studded boots, with a baggy Gun N' Roses shirt swallowing his torso with a studded leather jacket over that. Not to mention his hair. Oh boy, his black hair is styled up in liberty spikes with the tips dyed an aqua blue — that type of punk guy. Even from here, I can faintly see that his eyebrows and nose are pierced, leaving me with no doubt in mind that tattoos probably litter his skin beneath that clothing.

When he called out to me I turned to face the group again but quickly regretted it as that guy gestured for me to come over. I continued to deny Liberty Spikes with a cold shoulder, but my action only enticed another. His friend, who was sitting next to him, decided to give it a whirl with a different tactic; he approached me.

He stood up, the accessories on his leather jacket and studded belt jingling at the action, and took the meager eight steps or so to now stand beside me — his weight now resting on one of the rails that sort of separate the steps in three sections. The man didn't look all that different from his friend other than wearing a solid green shirt and having his hair styled in a huge mohawk with lime-green tips. Plus, his ears were gauged rather than coating his face with piercings.

"Aw, come on, what's the big deal? Your sitting all alone," he decided to state the obvious while smiling at me. "And we're always down to make new friends. So come join us, sexy?"

"I rather not." I quickly interjected as I turned my gaze back to the beach, ignoring the sexy comment altogether. I made sure my tone stayed neutral on the matter. "I'm not sitting here just to sit." I continued to make my point by crossing my ankles and resting my weight back, my elbows on the steps behind me. "I'm waiting around for some friends."

"That so? Well, I bet that my friends and I can make your night a wicked one. Come on, you can trust us." He tried to win me over by adding some eyebrow wiggles unsuccessfully. Even going as far as leaning further over the railing to grab my attention, but I barely glanced at him.

Somehow I knew his buddies held no match to an evening with vampires. Honestly, he probably thought this girl before him was waiting for some chick friends.

Oh, how wrong he is.

"I doubt that," I say simply, the corner of my lips wanting to lift in a smirk. That taunting spark inside me wishing to flare up again. "My night will be one to die for, and I don't think you would want to participate in that."

"Well spoken." Came a familiar voice above us on the Boardwalk, humor lingering in the low yet playful tone.

Upon hearing his voice, I leaned my head back, allowing an upside-down David to fall into view along with his brothers. Our gaze locked on for just a second before I straightened my head to look back at Mohawk guy. Instantly I noticed a frown gracing the once optimistic face along with recognition swimming in his eyes. Not to mention, the punk's body went from being lazy one second to full-on alert. Yeah, he knew them, and he probably didn't want to mess with the Lost Boys.

I heard the light tap of boots on concrete, barely having a moment to register them, before unruly blond hair and sand-stained white pants fell next to me. Paul, in all his wild glory, tossed an arm over my shoulder while offering me a charismatic smirk.

"This guy giving you trouble, babe?"

My lips parted to reply, but the unwanted guest spoke before I could. "Whoa, I didn't realize she's taken, man." Mohawk guy quickly leaned further away from the railing, "I don't fuck around with someone else's girl." And with his tail tucked between his legs, the man promptly backed off to his little group. Safe and sound from the Lost Boys 'fun' activities — for now. Upon reaching his buddies, the group clambered to their feet and made their exit.

With them gone, I decided to sit up straight, pulling my legs in so my feet are flat against the sand again. "I guess that could be considered one way to get a guy to back off." My eyes still lingering on their retreating backs.

Paul shuffled, getting comfy I assume, which drew my attention to him fully. "I'd be happy to help anytime." The unruly blond lips were forming into a flirtatious grin now.

He looked laid back sitting next to me with one leg stretched out, the tip of his boot digging into the sand while the other was bent to allow his elbow to rest on it. I'm sexy and I know it practically rolling off of him. Even though the image before me was attractive, I playfully shoved at his chest in response in an attempt to blow it off.

"Well, I don't doubt that you would."

I could never figure out who I liked best between the vampires. After all, they have their own charm. David especially caught my attention from the first viewing alone, but as a leader that's expected. Plus, I can't deny that his choice of apparel is enticing as far as my media deluded love for vampires go. Then there is what lays beneath, that intimidating personality of his demanding to be in control. Then that wicked smirk and piercing gaze swallowing you up. It all really lures me into him, but I must admit that the hair-due is a sore eye. I know—I know, it is 'in' for the eighties, but my brain is not in the eighties. If I could just chop off the back end...

Beside him is the ever quiet yet dangerous looking Dwayne. The one perceived to be second in command with his shirtless appearance adding to his more raw sex appeal. He always came off as the silent type with me. Although I've seen him grin and crack jokes in the movie, very rarely mind you. Still, I can't lie about the fact he is attractive in the tall mysterious and scary way. His dark flowing hair, tan complexion, and deep brown eyes capable of drawing any curious spirit in. The leather leopard printed jacket adding to the animalistic charm with those dark jeans hugging his hips.

Then you have the curly blond vampire, Marko, and that ever-present Cheshire grin. That type of smile that seems to hide secrets as his playful greenish-blue eyes dance with mirth. He's the shortest of the group, which makes him about level with me, but behind that cherub face I know he is a monster just like the rest. Ready to tear someone limb from limb with a smile on his face. Yet, he is still attractive with that grin of his being one of those reasons I find him appealing—It's dangerously enticing. Though I may never understand his get up entirely, besides the patch covered jacket that is. Any artist could marvel at the artistic design, but the white beater looking shirt that barely covers anything with the blue jeans hiding under leather chaps I don't understand. No doubt it's part of the motorcycle get up, but still.

Then there is Paul sitting beside me, with his crazy untamed hair that sits around his head like a lion's mane. He always appeared upbeat as well, happily ready to banter with Marko, and his appearance in my eyes could be the most attractive out of the entire bunch. Second best to David, in my opinion, since I can dig the semi-rock attire. The fishnet shirt beneath what appears to be a tailed tuxedo blazer with added on buttons and chains. Then you have the once-white pants for bottoms that hug his features for all to see. I'd say the only thing that sort of puts me off about Paul is his overuse of drugs. Though I can only assume they don't affect him like they used to. Perhaps that's the reason why he uses more of it and frequently. Of course, that is just a theory, so who knows really. I mean, he could just be your typical Cali stoner.

Slowly I stood up just as a bouncy like movement caught my attention above Paul, making me realize that Marko is leaping the steps down to where I am. He came to a stop a step above me with his heels together and one hand on his hip. The other at his mouth as his thumb seemed to hover there. Not exactly nibbling on it like usual but still there if he wanted to. The crazy patchwork coat flickering to life from the barrel behind me. It was quite a sight.

"I'm surprised you even showed up." Marko decided to be real straight with me though his usual grin is right in place. To be honest, I'm surprised myself. I feel pretty fifty-fifty on the whole ordeal. I mean, wouldn't you if you knew there is a chance you may become Vamp-Chow?

"I don't really like to go back on my word. Besides, I had some time to kill, so why not spend it with supposed killers?"

"You don't know how right you are, babe," Paul added in as he stood up, an arm coming to rest on Marko's shoulders loosely.

Oh, but I'm sure I do...

"Right. I have a feeling I'm hitting the nail on the head." I say with a pointed gaze, hands up in a mock surrender before my facade broke altogether, my own smile pulling at my lips. "So tell me, what's the plan this evening? I can't necessarily be out too late."

"What? Does mommy want you home before midnight?" Marko teased before stepping past me, Paul doing the same on the opposite side. Now the only person I could see without turning to face the blond duo is Dwayne and David.

"Nine, actually," I say when my eyes lock on with David, hoping to push the point across before sliding over to Dwayne's. I then turn around to face the other two. "I'm here with my younger brother. I guess you can say that his time is my time."

"Always do what mommy says?" Inquired Paul this time with a taunting look in his eye.

"Not really." I simply answer, my smile forming into a grin of my own.

"Ooh, we got us a rebel!" Marko grinned back at me to which I returned with a wink.

I don't know what it is, but being near them just makes me feel so powerful. I wonder how I would act if I didn't know what they were. If this feeling to be ballsy and playful is natural or not. It felt good, don't get me wrong, but I can't help but quietly question my sanity.

"Maybe a little." I teased. "I don't look like this for just appearance's sake," I say while fanning my hand down my body, openly watching the blond duo scan me along with my hands. I have a feeling they've already checked me out before, but them doing it in front of me made my stomach flutter to life. The looks on their face held no disappointment either, and it only fueled the heat more.

"So," I started up again as I made my way through Paul and Marko, the sand squishing and shifting beneath my weight. "I'm totally down with hanging with you guys as long as you allow me to go home. Then," I spun, coming face to face with all four Vampires on my tail with only four feet separating us. A part of me realizing how scary that could be under different circumstances. "If I'm still alive, I may consider sneaking out for you guys like the lil' rebel I am."

"I like the way you think," David spoke up, easily stepping through his brothers to stand before me. "But are you sure you want to 'hang' out with a group like us?" His smirk was twitching at the corner of his lips as that gaze of his dug into me. "I did tell you our plans, so are you sure you want to tempt fate, Alex?"

Oh, he is good at the intimidating scare tactic, but I held his gaze. Just like before, I welcomed the challenge and didn't break eye contact, but couldn't help the fear pulsing through me. I knew the possibilities, but I didn't want to appear weak. Especially not to him.

"Temp fate is what I do, David," I say calmly despite the beating muscle in my chest pounding at my ribs. "As the saying goes; When life puts you in a difficult situation, you don't say 'why me,'" I leaned in closer to him, my head falling back some to keep our connection. "You say, 'try me.'"

I stood my ground as he leaned in closer, bending at the waist so his lips could reach my ear with ease. I could feel his unnecessary cold breath brushing the skin there, but tried to concentrate on his words instead.

"You like to challenge me, don't you Alex?" My breathing hitched up in my throat as his words sank in, but thankfully I didn't have to say anything as he spoke up again. Not like I knew what I would have said anyway. "Let's see how far you'll go. How far that little saying will take you." Then he leaned away from me, those icy blue pools of his dancing with mischief.

And I think I just signed my death certificate one way or the other just then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Serious question that has been plaguing my mind some, but would anyone be interested in reading a male OC related story? I'm not even sure who I'd pair him up with, if even a romance story, but the idea has been rolling around for a while. I would love to hear your feedback! Also, thank you to those who decide to leave comments and kudos. You know I always appreciate them!


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